


so may the sunrise bring hope (where it once was forgotten)

by bluesgraywaren



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Azula (Avatar) Redemption, Azula (Avatar)-centric, F/F, M/M, Multi, Ozai (Avatar) Being a Terrible Parent, Ursa (Avatar) is a Good Parent, i have never wanted to write a story as much as this one, imagine how powerful azula would be if her father hadn't controlled her, mother daughter bonding :'), zuko azula iroh and ursa? the best people in the royal palace
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:49:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25519813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluesgraywaren/pseuds/bluesgraywaren
Summary: she said that she thinks azula’s strong and brave, and that she loves her.her father had never said those words to her or zuko, no matter what they’d done. azula feels a pang of guilt, and this time she can't smother it with anger for her mother. she feels her eyes pricking.i’m strong, and i’m brave, she repeats to herself in her head, feeling the tears slip out and fall onto the pillow beneath her.orprince ozai is making graver and graver plots to become firelord at the expense of his children. ursa's not going to let them down; she's loved her children with her whole heart since the days they were born. she's not going to let her daughter slip through the cracks.
Relationships: Aang & The Gaang (Avatar), Azula & The Gaang (Avatar)
Comments: 62
Kudos: 507





	1. to keep me at arm’s length

**Author's Note:**

> hello! this is a story i've been wanting to write for so long. imagine how powerful zuko and azula would be if they were both free from their father.
> 
> this takes place over the course of several years, starting with iroh's news from the warfront of ba sing se and goes through the entire series of atla.

Azula is frustrated. Yes, she’s happy with the news of Ba Sing Se being under siege by her uncle, but Zuko gets a dagger and she gets a _doll?_

“I still think our dad would be a much better Fire Lord than his royal tea-loving kookiness,” she sighs, narrowing her eyes and setting the Earth Kingdom doll up into flames. She’s sure that someone like Ty Lee would love a doll like this, but it wasn’t fair that just because she was a girl she had to play with them. Especially when Zuko looked so happy waving the pearl dagger around.

She looks at her mother, waiting for a biting response about how she’s _not like Zuko_ , or she was _ungrateful_ , or, the worst; that there was something wrong with her. Ursa stares at her, and Azula prepares herself for whatever’s about to be said.

There’s nothing. Ursa purses her lips, looking at her like she’s trying to figure something out. Azula extinguishes the flames, tossing the doll into the nearest waste receptacle, and skips out the door to her chamber.

That’s strange. Her mother always says _something._

Azula doesn’t dream. She sleeps, usually peacefully, waking up early to practice her firebending katas with Lo and Li as the sun rises.

Tonight, however, things are different.

She’s about to give in to sleep a few hours after her mother gave her news from Uncle Iroh when there’s a quiet push and pull shut of her door, and the ball of blue fire illuminates in her hand before she sees who’s there.

It’s her mother, dressed in her sleeping clothes.

“Mom?” Azula says, eyes still bleary from sleep. She rubs her hands over them - maybe she was just seeing things. But when she refocuses her eyes, her mother’s there, sitting on the edge of her bed like she’s not sure Azula wants her to get any closer. Azula’s not sure either. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m sorry for waking you, sweetheart,” is what Ursa says, and Azula’s a little dumbfounded. There’s been many nights where she’s seen her mother sitting in Zuko’s room and helping him with his nightmares, but she’s never come into hers without a reason. Namely, for annoying her brother.

Ursa reaches down into her satin pocket, pulling out a black bag with a small Fire Nation insignia on it. Azula’s a little scared - what’s her mother doing?

“What did I do wrong?” Azula says, pushing down her fear with masked annoyance. “I didn’t do anything to Zuko.”

“No, honey, of course you didn’t,” says Ursa, pushing the bag towards Azula on the bed. Azula looks down, then back at her mother. She’s smiling. It’s one of those smiles that Zuko usually gets.

It’s odd, but comforting. Azula doesn’t want to get too used to it. This is probably another doll that she wants Azula to have on her shelf in case Uncle visits.

“Open it,” her mother says, folding her hands on her lap, and Azula pushes her sleep-messy hair out of her face and reaches for the bag. She undoes the clasp in a second or two, expecting clothes or _worse_ , more makeup from Lo and Li, but that’s not what she finds.

Inside is an ornate, obsidian dagger, lined with red crystals and a silver engraving that reads, simply, _strength_. Azula touches the tip of the dagger - it’s sharp, and had been sharpened recently. It’s not a traditional dagger, like Zuko’s; it’s curved in the shape of a half moon. It’s pristine, and Azula almost feels like she shouldn’t be touching it.

“It’s not fair that Zuko gets a dagger and you get a doll,” says Ursa, forehead creasing slightly. “A girl shouldn’t be resigned to having to be happy with what they receive, especially when they’re as talented as you.”

Azula feels her eyes shining. She can’t look up to meet her mother’s eyes.

“This is mine; it was a parting gift from my village when I left to marry your father. It’s a relic. It was taken from Chin the Conqueror, a powerful Earth Kingdom ruler a few hundred years ago. It’s legend that he drew his power from the dagger. My father came into possession of it when he was off fighting in the war.”

Azula looks up, and she feels herself smiling before she can even push it down.

“Have you ever used it?” she asks, placing the dagger back into the case and looking at her mother expectantly.

Ursa smiles, settling next to Azula on the bed and taking the dagger in her hands.

“Once,” she says, looking off wistfully. “A few months after I married your father… I snuck out.”

Azula feels her mouth drop open. Snuck _out?_ She’d always pictured her mother as the goody-goody, turtleduck-feeding rule-follower that she’d seen for so many years.

“Snuck out? Of the _palace?_ ” Azula gasps, hands clutching the sheets of her bed. “Did Dad know?”

Ursa’s smile disappears, replaced with the hard line of her lips.

“No, your father didn’t know. I missed the freedom of being able to walk around the town, or _any_ town, for that matter, and as someone who was part of the Fire Nation royalty, I wanted to see how the common people lived. I took the dagger with me, and I was walking around the edge of Caldera City. There were a few rogue soldiers threatening a child for money; he couldn’t have been older than you, but he was nowhere near as great of a firebender.”

Azula smiles. She _is_ a great firebender, and her mother confirms it with a small grin and a ruffle of Azula’s hair.

“He was scared, telling the soldiers that his father was sick and he needed the grain he had to feed him,” Ursa says, wringing her hands. “They weren’t going to take no for an answer. It was nightfall, and… I’m not sure. One of the soldiers pulled out a sword, and he was going to end the little boy’s life. He reminded me so much of you. He wasn’t scared, and kept trying to knock them back with his bending. He was brave.”

Azula swallows. Her mother thinks she’s brave.

“I pulled out the dagger, and I brought it to the man’s throat, like this,” Ursa explains, pulling out the knife and resting it gently on the side of her neck. Azula takes a sharp intake of breath. “I was going to do whatever I could to save that little boy. Just like I would’ve done if you or Zuko had been in trouble. The men ended up running off after I did that. I wasn’t sure if it was because they recognized me, or because of the dagger, but I saved that little boy. If I hadn’t stepped up and showed my strength, someone could have been killed. Their parents would have grieved, and they would’ve lost one of the most precious people in the world, like you and your brother are to me.”

Ursa punctuates her last words by raising the dagger and skillfully arcing it throughout the air, sending it perfectly into one of Azula’s targets on the wall. Azula gasps - the precision was devastating.

Her mother reaches out, hand soft on Azula’s shoulder, and looks into her eyes. Azula feels exposed, but something relaxes around her heart; it feels nice.

“Azula, you are a girl, and that can never stop you from being a strong warrior, no matter what anyone has to say,” Ursa says. “I’ve talked with Lo and Li, and they’ve agreed to practice your katas with you an hour later. If you can keep a secret, I’d like to show you how to use this dagger in the morning. Only if you would be alright with that.”

Azula beams, and before she can stop herself, hugs her mother’s waist as tightly as she can. Ursa’s arm comes down, holding Azula closely as she presses a kiss into her hair.

“I’ll come collect you in the morning,” Ursa says, standing and pulling the dagger out of the wall, returning it to Azula. Azula holds it like it’s glass, like it’s something that could shatter on the floor if she isn’t careful. “I love you, Azula. More than I can ever express.”

She presses another kiss to Azula’s cheek before standing and walking silently to the door, closing it behind her. Azula places the dagger on her nightstand and lays back against her pillow. Her head hurts a little bit; she’s so _confused._ Her mother never treated her like this in the past. But she said that she thinks Azula’s strong and brave, and that she loves her.

_She loves me._

Her father had never said those words to her or Zuko, no matter what they’d done. Azula feels a pang of guilt, and feels her eyes pricking.

_I’m strong, I’m brave,_ she repeats to herself in her head, feeling the tears slip out and fall onto the pillow beneath her. _My mom loves me_.

Azula dreams that night; a red dragon encircles her, an older version of her, on a tall mountain. Its face is grotesque and brutal, and she’d be scared normally, but she simply reaches a hand out and rests it on the dragon’s nose. When the dragon turns from her to breathe fire over the cliff’s edge, her firebending arcs out in a perfect half-moon, like the dagger. This time her fire isn’t fire, but lightning.

She hadn’t slept that well in years.


	2. foundations and spirits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> azula learns from her mother, instead of her usual teachers. she finds that she enjoys it more than she believes she will.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello everyone! thank you for the INCREDIBLE response to my first chapter. it's absolutely unbelievable. i love writing this story so much and i'm ecstatic you guys like it too.  
> next chapter will heavily feature the dynamic between ursa and her children - after all, zuko's got his dao swords. who do you think he learned them from?

Azula rises even before the sun the next morning.

She can’t quell the buzzing inside of her chest; she’s _excited_. To spend time with her _mother_. A week ago she’d think that her mother was only calling on her to teach her etiquette and manners during dinner.

Azula smiles, getting out of bed and feeling the dagger in her hands. It really _is_ sharp - she tests it by scraping it, gently, on a small area of her sheets. The fabric rips without sound, dividing like butter underneath her hands.

Azula closes her eyes, trying to ground herself. Her mother sat a little ways away from her, and threw it like _this-_

When she throws the knife, it doesn’t stick in the wall. The force behind it propels it a little too far, and it clatters to the ground. Azula huffs, feeling the sparks in her mouth ignite.

She tries again, and again, but she still can’t manage to throw it properly. She’s almost given up and burnt the target to the ground when there’s a careful knock at the door, and Ursa steps inside the room.

Azula watches her mother almost glide on her feet - she’s not wearing her traditional Fire Nation robes, instead opting for sleek, burgundy silk pants and a loose flowing top. Her hair’s been pushed back into two buns, a silk headpiece pushing the smaller bangs out of her eyes.

“Hello, sweetheart,” her mother says, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. “How did you sleep?”

Azula smiles, holding the dagger in her hands. “I slept alright. I can’t get this _stupid_ knife to stick, though. Not like you did.”

Ursa grins, pulling a matching silk headpiece out of her pocket.

“It’s very hard to get a weapon to work the way you want, especially when you’re training yourself,” she says, gently guiding Azula onto the stepstool in front of her mirror. Within a few seconds, she’s brushed Azula’s hair into her bun, tying the silk around as a headband to ensure there’s not a hair out of place. “It takes talent, discipline, and a good teacher. I think you’ll be able to get it in no time.”

Within a few minutes they’re both walking down the hall, though Ursa holds Azula back when a top-ranking Fire Nation general, Zhao, walks down the hallway with his guards.

“Mom,” Azula whispers. “Why can’t we go?”

Ursa looks down at her daughter with a crestfallen smile, patting Azula’s shoulder. “A lot of people in the palace don’t know where our training room will be. I’d like to keep it that way.”

Azula smiles as her mother takes her hand slowly, after Zhao disappears behind the ornate door of her father’s War Room. They start walking again, joined hand-in-hand.

Azula feels something flow in her chest - it’s fear, she recognizes right away - and she grips her mother’s hand a little tighter.

“Does Dad know? About the dagger you gave me?” Azula whispers, trying to keep her footsteps as light as possible. “Is he upset?”

Ursa sees her daughter’s eyes widen imperceptibly with fear, and keeps her grip strong on Azula’s hand.

“No,” she says, pushing open a panel on one of the walls down the hall from Zuko’s room. The door slides open almost seamlessly, and Azula and her mother slip down into the secret hallway before it shuts behind them. “Your father doesn’t know. I don’t believe… I don’t believe he’d be happy if he found out that you were learning to use a weapon that he hadn’t taught you.”

Azula shudders, still following the secret path down a flight of stone steps. She’s both elated and awestruck that her mother even knows there’s a secret path that Azula _didn’t_ know.

“Why?” she asks plaintively, one of her hands coming to rest on her hips. “He knows I’m a good fighter. He likes seeing me do my katas, and I’m _really_ good.”

“Of course you are, honey,” Ursa says, turning left down a fork in the hallway. “But your father… He likes being able to have things in his control. He knows you’re an excellent firebender, like him, and that pleases him immensely. He knows your power. He doesn’t know mine, and I believe that if he did, he wouldn’t be too thrilled.”

Ursa pushes open a door at the end of the hallway, and inside is a stone-sealed room with two outlines of practice dummies. It’s _enormous_ and less ornate than the rest of the palace, but the sunlight bounces through the mirrored walls and the room _glows._ It’s perfect for practice, and she feels the sun beams making her _chi_ rise.

“Learning to fight, to protect yourself, and to defend the ones you love is purely for _you,_ Azula. Not for anyone else,” her mother says, pressing a gentle hand on her jaw. “Your firebending, spirit, talent and soul belong to you, and no one else. I love you, not for the power I know you can wield, but for the fact that you’re yourself.”

Azula smiles, though she still feels a little sad and confused - why wouldn’t her father _want_ her to be a great warrior for herself? Why would he be so upset if he knew that her mother was teaching her how to be a fighter in ways other than firebending?

Why wouldn’t he say he loved her when all she’s done, all the training and pushing herself to the limit has all been to make him happy?

Ursa stops in front of a small table where a few curved and traditional daggers sit, and perches herself cross-legged on the ground in front of it. Azula matches the way she sits on the other side, pushing her sleeves up like her mother to free her hands.

Her mother pulls out two replicas of the dagger - it’s still dark in coloration and looks deadly sharp, but lacks all of the crystals and engravings. She passes one to Azula, and holds another one.

“These have been modified to be the same weight as your dagger,” Ursa remarks, flipping it over, gently, in her hands. “We want to get used to the weight of the weapon _before_ we start using it. Pick it up, and close your eyes. Hold it with your thumb in the small divot at the bottom, like this.”

Ursa places her weapon in her dominant hand, thumb placed surely on the dip on the weightiest part of the handle. Azula matches her, and copies as her mother closes her eyes.

“Feel the weight of the dagger. It might feel unbalanced, but that’s not the case. The heavy handle balances out the blade, which is as thin as a sheet of paper,” Ursa explains, and Azula moves the dagger up and down in her hand to feel the weight shift as it moves. “The blade would be nothing without the handle. A strong, stable foundation is key for any weapon. Without the handle, the blade is messy, unfocused, and dangerous.”

Azula feels alongside the blade, finger pressing ever so slightly into the tip so that it can’t cut her, but it could if she pressed further. Her mother’s right - with no handle, she wouldn’t be able to hold it without feeling like she could be cut.

“Like firebending,” Azula says, opening her eyes. “To produce fire takes absolute focus and honing of the _chi_. If the person firebending doesn’t know what they’re doing, it could spiral out of control.”

“Exactly,” Ursa says with a smile. “Here. Stand up.”

Azula stands, barely taller than Ursa’s waist, and watches as her mother deftly flips the blade over in her hands.

“The weight of the handle is what gives it the force to move,” she says, precariously balancing it on her thumb. “The blade itself is too light. When you throw it, think of throwing the handle, not the blade.”

Azula places her thumb in the dip of the handle, feeling the weight of it, and mirroring her mother’s movements. Both of their blades slip between their fingers and over the top of their hands, and Azula grins, victorious, when she’s able to match her mother’s moves perfectly.

“Excellent work, sweetheart!” Ursa says with another ruffle of Azula’s hair, and she grins. “Excellent. Now breathe deeply, feeling the blade move like an extension of your arm. Just like your firebending. Think about where you want the handle to go, not the blade. The handle’s in sync with your mind - the blade is your spirit.”

Ursa takes a deep breath, placing herself in a grounded stance across from the target, and whips the blade carefully. It buries itself in the head of the dummy, blade-first.

Azula breathes deeply, grounding her feet. Her mother’s words echo in her head; _the handle is my mind. The blade is my spirit._

When Azula throws the knife, it hits the dummy in the shoulder. It’s a little off-center, but it lands regardless.

“Yes!” Azula cries, pumping her fist in the air. “It worked!”

Ursa beams, holding Azula close to her. “I always knew you could do it.”

Their morning practices become routine for a few weeks; each time Azula gets better and better, and on occasion her and her mother will enjoy breakfast together in the training room. Azula feels that warmth in her chest almost constantly now; it’s peaceful.


	3. i see you when you smile (it takes a while)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> yes, this made me cry. i know i promised zuko, but i had this scene in my head.

One day, during her daily dagger training (she’s improved _so much_ over the past couple of weeks; Ursa’s even taught her a few moves for close combat, and they’ll spar with dull knives until they’re both sweaty and laughing), Azula asks the question. It’s something that’s been on her mind for a while, but she’d never been close enough with her mother to ask.

“Do you like Zuko more than me?”

They’ve taken a break from their sparring to enjoy some of the tea that Uncle recommended (Azula has always hated tea, but the blend of cinnamon and rose has quickly become her favorite), and Ursa almost chokes on her drink.

“Azula!” her mother almost cries, placing the ceramic cup down on the table. Azula cringes - _this is it, they’ve gone nowhere, I’ve ruined it forever by talking about Zuzu-_

Ursa’s arm comes up, and Azula flinches. Just barely. She knows what happens when the hands come up; her father’s reminded her countless times when her katas aren’t perfect, or when she wants to move onto new sets that he doesn’t believe she’s _earned_. She can still feel the biting pain from where the back of Ozai’s hand has come in contact with her cheek. She’s ready for the pain, and she’s ready to bury her cries in her pillow at night instead of unleashing them.

But when she reopens her eyes, Ursa’s arm’s folded around her, pulling her close instead. She feels her spine, still rigid, start to relax, and she forces it back into a protective stance.

When she looks up at her mother, she can feel her eyes wavering, and her mother looks like she’s been struck with a bolt of lightning. She pulls her hand back from where it’s encircled Azula, instead placing her hands lightly on Azula’s shoulders.

“Azula, sweetheart,” Ursa says, and her voice is soft; not like Father’s when he’s upset, when his shouts boom off the walls and Lo and Li don’t move, even though Azula does. “I love you. I do. I love you and your brother the most I could love anyone, the most _anyone_ could love anyone. No one more, no one less. You’re both the two halves of my heart.”

“But,” Azula starts, pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes. “But you’ve always spent more time with him. You guys _get_ each other, and I’m not like him. I’ve always been different. I’ve always… There’s been something wrong with me.”

“There’s never been anything wrong with you,” Ursa cuts in, a gentle hand cupping Azula’s cheek. “Ever.”

Ursa hesitates, looking down. She looks disappointed, not in Azula, but in herself.

“Growing up, I always saw more of myself in Zuko, but that was my fault,” Ursa says, lowering herself onto the ground in front of Azula. “It was my mistake. I saw your father in you, and I mistook it for a lack of me, but seeing you grow up, and especially seeing you burn that ridiculous Earth Kingdom doll… It struck me. That’s exactly what I would’ve done at your age. You’re brilliant, and talented, and I _know_ you care. Deeply. I think you’re the brightest person I’ve ever met, even though you’re so young.”

Azula feels her eyes pricking, and she looks down at where her feet are crossed on the ground.

“You’re fiercely loyal,” Ursa continues, pulling up Azula’s chin. “Your father is not the world’s gentlest man. In choosing to see more of him than myself in you, I was disregarding you as a whole. You’re not me, or your father; you’re _you_ , Azula. You’re brave, and strong, and your soul and spirit are stronger than I could ever hope for. You inspire me, endlessly. I love you. So very much. You’ll never know how much I love you.”

It’s no use holding back the inevitable; Azula’s tears fall, and she crumples onto her mother’s lap, sobs wracking her body. Azula feels Ursa’s body shake, and the two of them lie there for a while, tears slipping out and down their faces.

“I’m so sorry,” Ursa’s voice cracks. “I’m so sorry you ever felt like you were unloved. You _are._ I swear it on my life.”

When Azula looks back up, Ursa’s wiping the tears off of her face with her silk sleeve, and Azula lets her. She’s resolved to never cry in front of her father, and never has.

“I love you too,” Azula whispers, like if she says it any louder it’ll hurt. “I love you a lot, Mom.”

Ursa pulls Azula into her chest, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, and Azula feels the comforting push and pull of her mother’s breath until both of their sobs have subsided.

When Azula stands and picks up her dagger, her mother still sitting on the floor, she breathes in deep.

_Strength._

This time, when she throws the knife over her shoulder, it lands in the dummy’s heart. Ursa grins, throwing an arm around Azula’s shoulder, and Azula smiles back up at her gaze. The tightness around her shoulders, her spine, everything, has loosened, and she feels like the sun beams around them; strong and fiery and dependable.

“I want to show you something,” Ursa says, brushing a stray piece of Azula’s hair away from her forehead.

Azula grins wickedly, butting her cheek into her mother’s hand.

“Is it secret?”

Ursa grins back, patting Azula’s arm.

“Yes. You’ll love it.”

A few minutes later, still in her training clothes, Azula follows her mother out of the secret stairway and back into one of the main halls, trying to keep her footsteps quiet as a mouse. They walk, hand-in-hand, down a few stairwells, until they reach a doorway decorated with a steel lock.

Ursa reaches deep into her pocket and brandishes a key, pressing it into the steel, and the door pops open. It smells like dust and old paper, and when Azula enters, she’s shocked.

It’s a library - not just any, but that of the top-ranking Fire Lords and their staff, rows and rows of shelves adorned with ancient scrolls and forbidden books.

“Wow,” Azula breathes, still holding onto her mother’s hand. “This really _is_ secret. I thought the library was gone.”

She looks up at her mother, eyes twinkling, and follows her around a corner to a shelf with delicately placed novels. Some of them are still dusty, but the majority have been wiped clean. Ursa steps forward, pulling down a green-and-gold one, and gestures for Azula to sit next to her on the ground. Azula leans against her arm as she cracks open the book, flecks of dust falling out and onto the ground.

“This is the story of Avatar Kyoshi,” Ursa explains, holding the first page open and letting Azula see the illustration. It’s fantastically printed on the page, a tall woman in a silk kimono brandishing two fans. “She was alive a few hundred years ago, and she was more powerful than anyone on earth. She used her Avatar powers to protect her home and the people she loved. She was so powerful that when her home city was invaded, she summoned her powers and divided the city from the mainland, pushing it into the sea. She could destroy a thousand trees, oceans, or even countries with her power.”

“Start reading!” Azula cries, chin pressed into her hand.

Ursa chuckles softly, letting Azula hold the book and feel the weight of the copy.

“Of course,” she says, turning over the first page.

That became their new routine - training for an hour or so, and then reading the stories of the past Avatars. Kyoshi is easily Azula’s favorite, as they go from chapter to chapter - she was extraordinarily powerful, and knew her destiny; just like Azula, as her mother says. The days pass and spin into weeks, just the two of them on both warm and drafty mornings. It gets to the point that Azula can barely sleep - she’s too excited to hear what happened next, to learn the rich history of the Avatars that wielded this incredible power.

Sometimes she falls asleep to the sound of Ursa’s voice, explaining certain battles and family lines, and she finds that sleeping next to her mother is a lot nicer than being by herself with her firebending. She thinks about it when she’s surrounded by trainers in her father’s room, blasting fireballs into the air. She can control her destiny - she’s as powerful as the Avatars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm still blown away by the responses i've been seeing to this. i absolutely adore writing this - azula is a little girl, but she's powerful beyond belief, and still deserves love. thank you so much to everyone who's left comments, kudos and bookmarks - you guys keep me writing and it warms my heart :')
> 
> things start happening in the next chapter, and they're not all good.


	4. protective stances and blue flames

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> zuko and azula bonding time!!!! ha HA!!!!!

Of all the things she thought would make her feel different, spending her mother is far down on the list.

Azula’d always equated her mother to fancy-schmancy dinners and silk robes with sleeves too long to do anything practical with. Not fire and spirit and _lying_ especially to their father, who scared Azula far more than she’d like to admit.

It feels… powerful. Good.

On a night of the full moon, Azula waits for her mother to creep out of her bedroom, sure that Azula’s asleep. It’s a nice night, cool and crisp, even though she prefers the heat, and as Azula pulls on a hood and tiptoes down the hallway to Zuko’s room, even _she_ ’s not sure exactly what she’s doing. Her father’s away, something about visiting Iroh on the warfront of Ba Sing Se, so now is the perfect time.

The doors open and shut silently, but Zuko starts, and a little flame-knife erupts from his sleepy hands. He squints at the doorway.

“Who’s there?” he cries, voice cracking. Azula rolls her eyes. “Is that you, ‘Zula? What do you want?”

“Keep it down, dumb-dumb,” Azula whispers, coming and sitting on the edge of his bed. “I’m not here for anything mean.”

Zuko rolls his eyes next, still wary of Azula’s proximity to him. “Yeah. I’ve heard _that_ one before.”

Azula groans, mock slapping herself in the forehead. “Fine. I can leave, and then you’ll never get to see the secret room…”

Zuko’s eyes widen, and he sits up further. _Bingo_ , thinks Azula.

“Secret room?” Zuko asks, propping himself up to be cross-legged. “I thought you already knew all the rooms. You and Mai and Ty Lee play hide-and-seek all the time.”

“It’s a little more secret than that,” Azula says, smiling. It’s not the first time in her life she’s had one over on Zuko, but it’s definitely the first time she wasn’t planning anything mean. “It’s the _library.”_

Zuko gasps, hopping out of bed, and then his eyes narrow reflexively. “You know, if this is a joke, it’s really not nice.”

Azula smiles, pinky finger extended. “It’s not a joke.”

Zuko glares at her outstretched hand, finally sighing a reluctant breath. “Fine,” he says, crossing her pinky in his own and standing up. “But if something’s wrong, I’m leaving.”

Azula grins victoriously, gesturing for Zuko to follow her down the hallway. When they reach the panel that their mother pressed Azula opens and closes it with ease, Zuko watching out for any guards they might have missed.

The secret hallway is dark, and Azula’s blue flame illuminates it in a striking shade of cobalt.

“Wow,” Zuko breathes. “You’re getting really good at that. The blue fire, I mean.”

Azula turns, ready to fight back for whatever mean comment is next, but there’s nothing. Just wide-eyed Zuko in a way-too-big sleeping robe.

“Oh,” Azula says, still taking methodical steps down the hallway. “Thanks.”

Neither of them says anything else as they walk, and the air feels thicker than before. Azula can’t remember the last time they talked without fighting or her tricking him into saying something stupid. It’s interesting, Zuko when he’s not attacking. It’s a lot like her mother.

The door comes after another stairwell, still dusty and cleaned of any prints from the last time she was there (which was that night, but who’s counting). Azula pulls out a key, one she’d found on the floor by the entrance a few nights ago, and the door gives with only a single push.

The inside of the library is still _huge_ every time she steps in it, over fifty foot tall ceilings and lush carpets paving the way to the scrolls. When she glances over at Zuko, he looks almost dumbfounded.

“But I thought this was gone!” he says, footsteps muffled by the ground. “I thought Dad-“

“Dad only wanted to use it for himself,” Azula says matter-of-factly, walking around to her favorite section. “For some reason he didn’t want _us_ , royal _children_ , to read. I don’t know why. Maybe next he’ll put people in prison if they can read a letter.”

Zuko chuckles, staring at Azula with awe.

“Wow, I think that’s the first mean thing you’ve said about Dad,” he says, sitting down across from Azula. “It was kinda funny.”

Azula looks over, glaring. Of _course_ it was funny. But Zuko’s not laughing in a mean way, like she’s never said anything funny in her life. He looks happy, and calm.

Azula laughs too, until her stomach hurts and she has to sneeze to get the dust out of her face. When the laughter dies down, Azula reaches up and pulls down a scroll to set in front of Zuko.

“Read these,” she says, pulling down a book on Avatar Kuruk for herself. “That’s one of the best ones. They’re about the Avatars.”

Zuko’s eyes widen, and he pulls the scroll open right away, eyes flitting from line to line.

“How did you find this place?” he finally asks, propping his chin on his hand. “By yourself?”

“No,” Azula says, remembering carefully about how her mother told her what could happen if anyone found out anything about their reading, about their training. “I can’t say how.”

Zuko nods, seemingly understanding. “You know, someone’s teaching me how to use _dao_ swords. But I can’t really say how either.”

Azula looks up and meets Zuko’s gaze, and the two smile. There’s a mutual understanding there; not quite friendship, but an alliance. Both know who exactly can’t be mentioned.

They spend a few hours in the library, Zuko looking up animatedly and gasping dramatically when he reads a plot point. Azula has to explain to him some of the more confusing parts, but for the most part, it’s actually kind of nice.

By the time the sunrise is a little while away, Zuko and Azula get up, brush themselves off, and start making their way out of the library.

“Hey, ‘Zula,” Zuko says, like he’s worried someone might hear them. “Thanks for showing me this. It was super neat.”

Azula blanks, not sure how to respond. Usually she’d say something like _yeah, I knew you’d never find it yourself_ , but she doesn’t find herself feeling anything but peace.

“Sure,” she decides on saying. “It is neat.”

The walk back up the secret hallway is less tense than the last time, and the door back into the palace opens and shuts just as silently as the first time. They walk back in silence to get to their respective rooms, and just as they pass the royal hall-

“What are you kids doing?” booms out, and Zuko and Azula whip around to see Zhao, one of their father’s generals, standing with his hands on his hips. He has a few guards with him, and Azula watches as Zuko’s eyes narrow and he takes a tiny step to block Azula from him.

“Nothing, Captain Zhao,” Zuko says, still holding his stance even though his hands are shaking. “We’re allowed to walk around.”

Zhao looks unconvinced, turning his gaze to Azula. She’s never been fond of Zhao; he’s hotheaded and impatient and downright _rude_ to her, the princess. If he doesn’t get blown up by his own stupid stunts, Azula knows that he’ll probably make the wrong Earth Kingdom army his enemy and be out of the picture by the next few years.

“I’m sorry, Captain, but aren’t you supposed to be in Ba Sing Se?” Azula says, careful that her words come out sharp. “You know, with the other top members of the military?”

Zhao narrows his eyes, looking almost baffled.

“ _I’m_ sorry,” Zhao says, crossing his arms over his chest. “But I didn’t realize the royal children needed to be disciplined more than they already are.”

“Hmm…” Azula says, tapping her nail on her cheek. “Interesting that you would say that. Of course, I’m sure that if our father knew that you’d be giving us such a hard time while we’re on our way to practice our katas to perform for Fire Lord Azulon, he’d be _more_ than happy to give you a little discipline as well.”

Zhao’s not good at hiding his emotions, and the smug smile wipes itself off of his face in an instant. He scoffs, turning on his heel with the other guards, and turns away.

Zuko lets out a sigh of relief, mock-punching Azula on the shoulder.

“That was so _awesome_! You _scared_ him!”

Azula grins, raising her chin in the air. “I can scare anyone, Zuzu.”

“Yeah. I know that for sure.”

When they walk back into their rooms, Azula smiles, settling back down into her bed. She _can_ scare anyone, but does she _want_ to?


End file.
